A Winter's Tale
by LZWarriorProductions
Summary: The day Whitepelt becomes a warrior, everything changes. A secret grief claims her mind. She keeps her pain hidden from her Clan, slowly crumbling from the inside. But one cat does care. Stonetail has always loved Whitepelt, never letting it show. Grief slowly claims her, and Stonetail's attempts to save her are in vain. Life tells a winter's tale, and sometimes we have to move on.
1. Prolougue

**Prologue**

The forest was dark, and the only noise came from the trees, their branches swaying in the wind. A patrol crept through the leaves, careful to not make a sound. But beyond their sight, another group of cats lay in wait, preparing for the right moment to strike.

The first patrol came into view, and the cats pounced. The forest came alive with battle, and blood soon spattered the ground.

A large gray tom had pinned down a white she-cat. "This part of the territory is ours!" he spat.

"Never!" The she-cat growled. She clawed at him with her hind legs, and the tom jumped off, smiling as his threats taunted the small she-cat.

The tom bared his teeth and lunged at her, this time pushing her over the side of the gorge beside them. The she-cat clung onto the edge, terrified of falling in.

A brown tabby tom, Grassclaw, pulled away from his opponent to see the she-cat near being swept away into the dark waters.

"Whitepelt!" he yowled, launching himself at her attacker. He pinned the large gray tom down on the ground. "You know that an honorable warrior does not kill to win battles, Grayheart!" Grassclaw spat.

Grayheart easily threw the smaller cat off, and he charged to the edge of the gorge in an attempt to push Whitepelt, who was desperately hauling herself up, off the edge for good.

Grassclaw yowled and hurled himself in Grayheart's way, not hesitating when he saw Grassclaw.

As Grassclaw slipped over the edge, Whitepelt caught sight of his forest-green eyes. She could not see but a hint of fear in his forest-green eyes as he plummeted down towards the raging river below. She caught his eye, and he stared back, before death claimed him through the swirling chaos beneath them.

He was gone. Forever.


	2. Chapter 2

_Stonetail's POV_

I watch as Whitepelt trudges through the snow ahead of me, and I shudder, not just because of the frigid air surrounding my patrol, but the way she keeps her eyes down and stays silent, her snowy-white fur barely visible against the frosty ground.

I've been worrying about her lately. Ever since she became a warrior, she changed. She barely speaks anymore. She rarely looks anyone in the eye. She's a shell of her former self.

That's not the Whitepelt that I love. Although I've never admitted it to anyone, I've always had somewhat of a crush on Whitepelt. Whitepaw was optimistic, brave, daring. She wasn't afraid of anyone. That's what I love about her. I smile as I remember her first gathering. She had spoken out against the leaders, unfearful of the punishment that followed. The Whitepelt I love must still be in there, somewhere.

I run forward to catch up with her. "Hey, Whitepelt," I say rather quietly. I don't want to startle her, although she must have heard my paws crunching through the snow behind her. She doesn't acknowledge me.

She continues staring down at her paws. We stay behind the rest of the patrol, our paws dragging through the snow. A fierce gust of wind sends snow flying in our direction, and without noticing, Whitepelt presses her fur against mine. I see her look up at me, her blue eyes shining like stars, and she quickly pulls away.

I stifle a small grin, and we continue our way through the forest. Snowflakes fall around us, dancing in the crisp air. We arrive back at the camp, and Whitepelt heads straight for the warrior's den. I follow her and stand in the entrance.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault," I hear her whispering to herself, barely audible.

I walk past the entrance and Whitepelt stares at me, clearly surprised. I pad towards my nest, and I can tell that Whitepelt is still watching me. I look back at her, and our eyes meet for a heartbeat before she realizes that she has been staring for too long, and she looks down at her paws.

"Sorry," she mumbles, so quietly that I almost don't hear her.

I turn and look at her in surprize. I find my voice and say, "It's ok. I don't mind."

I take a step towards her, and she shrinks back into her nest. I realize that she had been crying.

"Whitepelt-" I start.

She turns away from me and curls into her nest. I bow my head and slip into my own nest. I knew it wouldn't work, so why did I even try? Why do I even care?

 _I care because I love her,_ I tell myself. _I love her._


	3. Chapter 3

_Whitepelt's POV_

As soon as I close my eyes, the sounds of roaring water fill my ears. My fur is drenched, and black water fills my mouth. I struggle to stay above the raging current, and my heart drops. A brown tabby struggles in the river ahead of me, fighting for one last breath before he is submerged again.

"Grassclaw!" I yowl. I thrash helplessly against the waves before it am sucked under. My lungs burn as I am tossed beneath the waves. I'm no longer sure which way is up or down, and dark spots cloud my vision.

The water blurs around me, and I am standing on solid ground. I let out a sigh of relief, but my heart drops when I notice the scene unfolding before me.

I see Grassclaw, barely identifiable through the blood that clots his fur and seeps into the sandy bank of the gorge. Grayheart stands over him, his yellow eyes gleaming in triumph. His claws are buried deep into Grassclaw's neck, and bloodcurdling screams fill my ears. I feel Grayheart's claws in my neck, and the more he tortures Grassclaw, the more pain I feel.

I collapse onto the ground, and watch the blood stain my white fur.

"I'm… sorry… Grassclaw," I manage to choke out before my vision goes black.

I am awakened by a slight prodding in my side. I gasp and open my eyes, searching for Grassclaw, or the river, or-

"Shhhh! Don't say anything, or you'll wake up everyone else," I hear a voice say. I look up to see Stonetail standing over me, his gray tabby fur outlined against the dark sky, green eyes glowing through the darkness.

Stonetail steps aside, and I slowly sit up. I can make out his silhouette by the entrance of the den. He flicks his tail for me to follow. I hesitate before standing up and slowly padding after him.

We walk silently through the forest, me staring at my paws while he leads me through the trees. Snow still dapples the ground, stinging my paws as we walk.

Stonetail beckons me into a clearing, and I draw in a sharp breath. Stars shine against the darkness, and the moon illuminates the sky. Stonetail sits beside the edge of the cliff, grinning at me through the night.

I remember with a sudden sense of dread clinging onto the edge of the gorge, and Grassclaw giving up his life in order to save me. I shudder and back away from the clearing.

"It's alright, Whitepelt. You can-" Stonetail starts.

"I…I ca-can't," I stammer.

Stonetail walks over and stands beside me. "Afraid of heights?"

"Um…" I breath. I can't bring myself to talk about Grassclaw. It was my fault he died, and I can't forgive myself.

Stonetail gently sets his tail on my back and I shudder. "It's not so bad," he says, slowly walking me to the edge of the cliff. I reluctantly follow him, and I sit near the edge. He sits down closer than I expected him to, but I don't complain. We stay perched there in silence until the sun rose, bringing dawn to the forest and melting away some of my frozen heart.


	4. Chapter 4

_Stonetail's POV_

I know that I've been acting like a lovestruck apprentice ever since Whitepelt and I sat on the edge of the cliff together, but I don't mind. She actually came, and she actually stayed.

Whitepelt walks out of the warrior's den and I nearly trip over my own paws as she walks over to me, her eyes darting around nervously.

She opens her mouth, about to tell me something, but quickly closes it and puts her head down.

"Do you want to go back? To the cliff, I mean," I ask before she can turn away.

She hesitates before slowly nodding her head. We quietly slip out of the camp and walk towards the clearing.

The freshly fallen snow feels crisp beneath my paws, and I get an idea. I scoop up a pawful of the snow and playfully fling it at Whitepelt. It hits her ear, and she narrows her eyes at me. I smile, and she flicks some of the snow back at me with her tail, spraying my muzzle.

I blink the snow from my eyes, and I hear her laugh. I haven't heard Whitepelt laugh since she was an apprentice. She has the most beautiful laugh.

I smile at her, and for once she smiles back, her blue eyes shining.

We continue on our way until we arrive at the cliff, and as we stand on the prepice, the wind blowing through our fur, the first stars begin to appear in the twighlight.

"Whitepelt?" I begin to ask, pacing my words carefully. "Do you ever wonder what it's like in StarClan?"

I feel her tense against my shoulder before she sighs. "I don't know," she responds. "It must be nice up there."

"I guess so," I say, "but I'm not ready to join them yet. I still have things I need to do. What about you?"

She never answered me.


	5. Chapter 5

_Whitepelt's POV_

Stonetail and I have continued to meet at the cliff. I've never felt better since Grassclaw's death, but I still can't forgive myself. I could have saved him, but I didn't try. I didn't try.

I can't sit here for much longer. The walls of the camp seem to be closing in on me, crushing me until I won't be able to escape. I bolt out of camp, nearly knocking over a warrior returning through the entrance. Stonetail stares at me, concern flooding his green eyes, and I can't bare to watch him any longer.

I run through the frosted forest, my legs burning and my lungs screaming. I don't know where I'm going, but I allow my paws to carry me blindly through the snow, though I know you can't run away from your past.

Eventually I find myself at the edge of the gorge, and my heart feels as heavy as the stones around me.

I want to scream. I want to yowl my sorrow all the way up to StarClan. I feel as though if I kept my grief secret for much longer, I won't be able to contain it any more, and It will flood the world like the dark river that stole Grassclaw's life.

Tears roll down my cheeks like raindrops, dampening the earth beneath my paws. Sobs rack my lungs, echoing down the gorge and into the river, swept away to places unknown.

Grassclaw never loved me, and I know it. He only saved me because I was his Clanmate. He had always been brave, putting himself in the face of danger for the sake of his Clan. He was always helping me improve my battle moves, or telling me how I could improve my hunter's crouch, and because of him I made it to being a warrior. He always told me how brave I was, yet I never had the courage to tell him how I felt.

I know Stonetail stands behind me, but I don't turn around. I don't try to wipe my tears away when he comes to sit next to me, or when he gently licks the top of my head, trying to comforting me. I rest my head on his shoulder, and though my tears dampen his fur, he doesn't pull away.

"Have you ever loved someone," I whisper through the tears, "but you never got to tell them?"

He sits quietly for a few moments, and though I begin to think he didn't hear me, he responds, "Yes." I turn to look at him, and he stares back. "And even if I have never told them," he whispers, "I can tell them now."

I stare into his forest-green eyes. Grassclaw's eyes were green. More tears fall onto the ground beneath us, and I lower my gaze. He can't love me. I'm not pretty, or graceful, or good at anything. There are so many other she-cats in the Clan, so why did he chose me?

I don't know how long we sat there in silence, but I don't mind. The roaring waters of the gorge drowned out all other sound, and as another day slipped away from my grasp, tears as cold as sorrowing hearts fall onto the rocks on which I carve my regrets.


	6. Chapter 6

_Stonetail's POV_

Ever since I found Whitepelt on the edge of the gorge, she's been more solitude than ever. She barely speaks to me anymore, let alone the Clan, and she is always sneaking out of camp. I don't follow her out of fear of what I might find.

Why did I have to tell her? I couldn't have just kept it to myself? I always knew it wasn't meant to be, so why did I even try?

The hunting patrol just returned. It seems like fresh-kill just becomes more and more sparse as leaf-bare goes on, and my Clanmates grow thinner and weaker around me. Just a few sunrises ago three kits died of the hunger and cold, and shortly after their mother died of grief. They were buried near the gorge, and Whitepelt was nowhere to be found.

I slowly pad out of camp and weave my way through the trees. Everything is quiet and still. My breaths come out in small clouds of gas like the ones I see monsters spit out as they rage across the thunderpath.

I don't know where I'm going, but I don't stop myself from walking through the freshly fallen snow. However long I wandered through the territory, I don't know. I just kept walking. Walking. Walking.

I almost didn't recognize her when I saw her. Her fur was tangled and matted like she hadn't groomed herself properly in days, and her eyes were dull and lifeless. Whitepelt turned to face me, and I realized why she was here.

"Whitepelt, don't do it," I tell her. I am desperate. I can't loose her. The red deathberries stand out against the snow, and Whitepelt stares at them like they might be the last thing she will ever see. And they just might become that if I'm not able to convince her.

"It must be nice in StarClan," she whispers, pawing at the deathberries. "I wonder what it's like."

"Whitepelt, you can't do this," I repeat. "I don't know what I would do with myself if you... if you were gone."

Tears well up in the corners of my eyes, and Whitepelt raises her head to look at me. The blue in her eyes seems to have faded away, and I realize how she must feel. But I can't risk losing her.

"Grassclaw wouldn't have wanted you to go this way, would he?" I say. She grows ridged on her paws as though she were suddenly rooted to the spot. Her eyes become glassy, and a single tear rolls down her cheek onto the snow.

A pain stabs my heart, sharper than the rake of any claw, as she lowers her gaze to the deathberries again. I take one slow step toward her, then another, until I stand close enough to her that I can see the light reflecting on her eyes.

I slide one of my paws over the deathberries, covering them. "Would Grassclaw have wanted this?"

When she doesn't respond, I lick the top of her head and stare into her blue eyes. They remind me of the sky on a cloudless day, clear and calming.

"You have his eyes," she whispers. I blink, and she pulls away from the deathberries. I step backwards, and together we bury them in the snow.

Sometimes life can be a challenge, and you just have to rise to meet it. Nobody is perfect, and no matter where you go, you can't avoid problems. It's just life. So as Whitepelt and I walk back to camp, I know that sometimes, when life tells a tale of sorrow, you just have to move on.


End file.
